Scars
by Ninamazing
Summary: My muse attacked me with this delicious Sirific idea this morning, and though it probably won't be noticed in the 11,000+ fics around here and I now have loads of work to make up, I couldn't help writing it. PG for language and depressing content.
1. The Only Baggage You Can Bring

**Author's Note: This is about Sirius Black, from Sirius's PoV [ gosh, didn't see that one coming, eh? ^_^ ], runs parallel to _Goblet of Fire,_ and has a bit of everything: mystery, romance, healing, playfulness, Harry .. you know. *grins* Right, I think that's everything.******

**Well, of course I'm not asking for flames ^_^, but *please* give me any suggestions you have to make this better! I know it probably won't get much publicity and whatnot because of the incredible amount of stuff that's pouring into HP, but I just had to write it anyway. Please tell me if you like it. I'm working *extremely* hard -- so of course, it's also *extremely* fun. ^_^**   
**Subtitle Credits go to U2 for their beautiful song "Walk On." I *FINALLY* bought All That You Can't Leave Behind! HAH! Lovely! Kudos to all of them, and go buy their album. You can't count on Napster anymore, it looks like they've signed a deal to become fee-based. *sigh***   
**Special thanks to concierge.com for all their useful information on Barcelona. ^_^******

**Please forgive the pun, if it annoys you when you get to it. I couldn't resist. *giggles* And enjoy and review! It's kind. It's courteous. And if you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. You'll always wonder, "Now what *would* have happened if I had reviewed that story .. ?" Yes folks, I *do* respond to reviews when you give me a way. ^_^ It may take awhile, but give me a break, okay?******

**Wow, I talk too much. ^_^ I'll stop blabbing and let you get to the good stuff!******

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A huge black dog weaved between the crowds in the city of Barcelona, Spain. The heat was unbearable, even though the fact that spring was near was comforting, and everybody was paying too much attention to the hot sun to worry about this dog who looked like the Grim. Sirius doubted they were too superstitious about that here, anyway -- they had too many fiestas to have a depressing outlook on life. The lovely mimosa and almond blossoms flourished in the gardens, and suddenly the world seemed to look brighter, despite the sweltering heat. As long as you didn't wear dark colors and enjoyed the shade for all it was worth, the weather could be a serious advantage.   
It was not, however, an advantage for Sirius. As he dashed past the gathering, chattering mob in front of the museum on the Plaça dels Angels, his thoughts turned again to his godson. He couldn't get over the fact that just last year, he had been so sure that his name would be cleared, he could have his life back, Crouch would look like a fool in the eyes of the public, and Harry could live with him. Sirius even believed that he could get some happy memories back, and defeat Azkaban's effects as well. Maybe.   
Remembering, Sirius grimly thought it was almost as if the Dementors had taught him nothing. The world wasn't a happy place, it wasn't fair, it wasn't just; it wasn't set on auto-heal for victims of unfounded accusations. If somebody said that the Dementors would suck every happy memory out of you, the Dementors would suck every happy memory out of you. There were no loopholes, no pity, no fairy godmothers. Sirius had been stupid: he'd made a fool out of himself from the moment he'd met his godson. What did Harry think of him now?   
Sure, Sirius knew that Harry had listened intently, as though he believed in him and Remus, but he also couldn't forget the way Harry had dived at him, clawed at his face, grasped for a handhold, searched for a way to hurt him more deeply than anyone could imagine. James Potter had flashed through Sirius's head then -- he was in the Gryffindor common room in fifth year, having his first real fight with James in three years, James diving at him, Remus yelling for the two to get off each other, Peter looking pale, girls gasping, boys screaming ..   
Yes, and for the first time since Azkaban Sirius had recalled James laughing afterward, clapping Sirius on the back with an apology, and Sirius suggesting to plant some Dungbombs in the Slytherin boys' dormitory to seal the order of forgiveness. It was a happy memory. Sirius had been so stunned by Harry, by this boy who could restore a precious memory by just jumping on him, that he couldn't retaliate for one dazed second. He barely even knew what he was doing when he went for his throat, he just knew, knew, that he had to stop this boy, he had to know the truth about his parents, had a right to know, needed to know. There needed to be someone to mourn Sirius's loss when he finally left the world, to understand what had really happened, and Sirius hadn't known then when death would come. It might have been the next day.   
It might have been in a few minutes, once Harry had gotten hold of a wand. Sirius wasn't too afraid of death, now that the world held no joy, but there was still Harry Potter, who had to know the truth, and for a few terrifying moments Sirius had been sure that he would never learn the only thing that mattered.   
But Remus had come. Remus had come, and Sirius felt something so ancient he almost couldn't discern what it was -- then he realized that he was feeling _relief._ It was almost alien to him now, that emotion. Remus believed him, and told Harry everything, and Sirius had remembered the Marauder's Map -- another happy memory -- and then, something so amazing had happened that Sirius still breathed hard and fast at the memory.   
Harry had saved him from the Dementor's Kiss, him and Remus, saved him from that oily, greasy-haired prick Severus Snape .. and Harry had told him he wanted to move in with him. Respect, love, kindness, friendship .. Sirius's heart was somehow rekindled, and the greatest joy of all was that these weren't memories, this was the _present,_ and if he wanted to keep these feelings in his head forever nobody would stop him, nobody would try to suck them out of him.   
Well, after that things hadn't been quite so peachy, but at least Sirius had his memories. He still had them, would always have them, would have his godson, would remember his best friends in the world .. and someday all of his memories would keep him company, and he could forget the world and dissolve himself in them. And then he could quietly die, and the world would forget him scornfully, but he wouldn't care, he'd still be embraced by his memories, and shut himself off in that world forever.   
The huge black dog smashed into a sunlit pillar, startling a group of emaciated beggars that reminded him of prisoners at Azkaban, and Sirius shook himself. As nice as it was to have his own thoughts to be lost in, he needed to get where he was going. Back to Hogwarts. Back to Harry.   
Lately, Harry had been worrying him. He'd always thought it was good for him to be out and about, breaking rules, getting fresh air, acting like his father. It was refreshing to Sirius. Dumbledore's information, though, and the few Daily Prophets he could get, showed only news of worry and uneasiness. Written between the lines of the news breaks was only a sort of pale horror, a dreaded realization: the Dark Mark at the World Cup, the Goblet of Fire being hoodwinked at Harry's expense, Bertha Jorkins missing in Albania .. the bad news went on and on, and Sirius often wondered what the Ministry was playing at. Was the general public really that unobservant, or were they just too frightened to admit the danger to their own selves?   
Whatever it was, Sirius wasn't stupid. Harry wasn't stupid. The boy shouldn't be wandering around the school at night, even, let alone leaving the grounds and going near -- the forest, for example. Sirius shuddered at the thought, and a few people gave the dog odd looks. His "lovable stray" alibi wasn't going to get him much farther. Still thinking hard about his godson, the shaggy black dog raced down an alley, past a few fish sellers, and headed into the darkness of another alley where a gigantic gray hippogriff was waiting for him.   
The dog shifted into the shape of a tall, dark man in filthy gray robes, looking unusually thin. Sirius's black hair was a little shorter than it had been, he'd managed to find a blade and clumsily cut it, shaving his face as well. His eyes still held that fathomless, rotted look, but there was a trace of joy where there hadn't been before. Laughter was a long way off, but at least it was closer.   
"Hullo, Buckbeak," Sirius croaked respectfully, bowing to the animal who had saved his life and whatever remained of his sanity and freedom. Buckbeak bowed deeply back, orange eyes shining, managing to appear royal even in this dank city atmosphere. Sirius reached over and stroked the hippogriff's feathers affectionately; Buckbeak couldn't talk, of course, but he was an excellent listener, and the two had a special, quiet sort of bond between each other.   
"Time to go," the man told him, and mounted his friend with care. Buckbeak took off, flapping his wings with a fascinating grace, although with Sirius's added weight he couldn't quite eliminate the clumsiness. Sirius grinned in spite of his situation and gripped Buckbeak's feathers loosely; this flying helped him remember Quidditch, and how much he had enjoyed watching it. Now and then bits of his favorite matches would come back to him, and he delighted in replaying James's marvelous goals and Remus's excited squeals from next to him. It was the only time, Sirius realized, that Remus really shouted. Usually he would be leafing quietly through books, or being the peacemaker, or brooding about how close the full moon was. Being bitten probably had taken a lot out of him -- just as twelve years in that living hell had taken a lot out of Sirius, he thought gloomily, and the grin left his face as they traveled on towards Harry's second home.   
  


It didn't take long for Sirius to find out where he planned to stay in Hogsmeade. Once he looked at Zonko's, he remembered that one time, late at night, when James-as-Prongs had suggested that they prowl up to the edge of the village and see what they could see. As they all leaped over the stile together, ignoring Peter's whines about being too small to explore and didn't they have any consideration and he was scared of the dark and he wanted to go _with_ them; Sirius had seen the cave, and memorized its location, marking it on the Marauder's Map later. Anything Sirius had drawn, written, or made with that much care was bound to be recalled sometime later with the right amount of prodding, Dementors or no Dementors. Sirius Black was like that.   
The only problem, Sirius soon realized, was _food._ In Barcelona he'd always been able to scrounge up fish or whatnot from the streets, and it was a big enough city that if he stole from a few different sections nobody would notice. There were always starving thieves in that place, anyway, which gave him added protection from discovery. Hogsmeade, however, was a different story; the villagers all knew the store owners, and most everybody was at least acquainted with the other residents. They'd walk the streets calmly, greeting the visiting Hogwarts students cordially when they came, and smiling knowingly whenever someone referred to them as "the townies." If food started to disappear _here,_ the police would be called and the neighborhood watch would be on red alert.   
Therefore, Sirius quite disdainfully reached the conclusion that eating rats for a time was the only way to go. Hopefully Harry could send him food, because Sirius definitely didn't relish the thought of living off rodents for an extended period of time. Of course, Sirius figured he could always pretend it was Pettigrew, and then he ripped the thing apart with the fervor of a warrior with the bloodlust.   
Hygiene was rather difficult, too; Sirius had never worried that much about it before, but with the definite possibility of speaking with his godson face-to-face left him feeling rather self-conscious -- which was another newly rekindled emotion, and Sirius didn't like this one. With a grudging inner sigh, he resigned himself to swiping a toothbrush, toothpaste, and other small items from a room at Hogs Head Hotel; a hairbrush would be noticed, he decided, and used his fingers. Water wasn't that hard to get, either, he built a roughly shaped basin from random scraps of wood he'd found, and while it leaked a bit, it did the job -- he left it outside the next rainy day, drank his fill, and took a freezing bath. One thing he did have was time.   
Sirius couldn't do anything about clothes; the villagers would _really_ notice if he just strolled into Gladrags Wizardwear and picked out some fashionable outfits! He'd never had much taste, anyway .. after awhile, he figured it was enough. Harry loves you no matter what the hell you wear, part of him whispered, although "love" was an emotion which had most likely escaped him, and soon he gave up entirely trying to remember it.   
Knowing that he would see Harry and his friends the weekend after next, once he'd received their return owl, kept Sirius in a bright mood -- as bright as it could get these days, anyway. The rats were starting to get very, very old, and Sirius began to just let himself go hungry, leaning against Buckbeak and talking nonsense as fast as he could to keep his mind off the constant, gnawing pain in his abdomen. Even in Azkaban he hadn't been this desperate -- but then, in Azkaban, he was starving for happiness, while here he was just starving for nourishment.   
Wanting to have a little fun, Sirius also started taking some walks around his cave; always far enough to escape notice, though. He would follow birds around, mimicking their cries, or transform into the black dog and prowl around, as menacing as Cerberus. It reminded him of his Marauder days, and he enjoyed rekindling his memories so much that he began to take risks and go into the village as the black dog. He would hide behind buildings, and stare hard at people walking in the roads and the square. After a minute or two, they'd begin to sense that somebody was watching them, and twitch nervously, jerking their heads around, trying to hide their fright. It wasn't really harmful, and Sirius found it quite funny, his prankster's nature returning in small bursts. Shame he couldn't risk Zonko's.   
  


And so, one way or another, the time passed until the date of Harry's Hogsmeade visit. Sirius woke and realized he would see his godson for the first time in a year, and hugged his knees for a moment, trying to release the happiness and adrenaline that was now flowing freely through him. Sighing, he got up, bowed to Buckbeak, transformed, and sniffed a hasty goodbye as he set off for the village, hoping a walk would set his mind straight. He'd never been one for extravagant displays of affection, and what he wanted right now, more than anything else, was food; primal instinct was settling in nicely.   
With some disgust, he eyed the rats, and forced himself away -- he'd get food at half past one. He didn't know how far off that was, exactly, but he'd learned to mostly tell time by the sun and it looked like it was pretty high. He'd been up late last night, with strange, eerie dreams as usual; the sound of the screams of the rabid Death Eaters in Azkaban had ingrained themselves in his memory forever, so his brain obviously had no trouble with that cozy little recollection. Rolling in the sweet grass like a puppy, and reveling in the fresh coolness of the air, Sirius ambled along the side of the mountain with no set direction. He didn't feel the need to be anywhere, and as long as he kept a watch on the sun he could play all morning. A slow dog-grin spread to his face as another memory of boyhood came speeding back.   
James, particularly annoyed by Peter that morning, had suggested that he, Remus, and Sirius should pretend to have some harebrained scheme and drive Peter up to the spare classroom on the third-floor corridor and lock him in. The plan had worked out perfectly, and even Remus had laughed when Peter tried to unlock the door with magic and succeeded only in turning his skin purple.   
Sirius-as-Padfoot bared his teeth suddenly, thinking of Peter Pettigrew. How he would tear him from limb to limb when he found that piece of vermin, that stinking, filthy, rat .. he imagined his vengeance with relish, hearing Wormtail's tortured screams only in his head, and then he turned the same torture on Crouch, _that's_ what you get for putting me in Azkaban without a trial, you rotting, soulless demon ..   
The shaggy, Grimlike dog didn't even realize what he was doing until the sun had risen very high indeed. Sirius had been tossing around in some kind of frenzy, ripping the grass out of the ground, scratching furiously at tree bark, digging up the ground with an angry fervor. Shaking himself at last, blinking fast to clear his dazed head, Sirius snapped himself out of his revenge dreams and realized it was time to get to the stile and meet his godson. Harry and his friends would have _food!_   
What he didn't realize was that a sharp-eared, curious witch had just appeared in exactly the same place where a bright-eyed robin had been hovering before, watching the dog. She checked her watch, frowned, gazed after the dog once more, and promptly Disapparated.


	2. And I Know It Aches

**A's N: I *really* should be working, but you know how muses are. *rolls her eyes at Tarna and Tion the elf-twins* Goodness. Those two.**

**Anyways, I really hope you like this -- I'm not sure if it's as good as the last one, so I'm relying on your ever-wise advice -- and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the glowing reviews I got last time! *smiles happily* Y'all are just wonderful, you know that? .. This one goes to you, and also to the lovely people at [my forum][1], because you might recognize dear Aury. ^_^ Thanks for the nickname, Hon!**

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Sirius's heart leapt as he caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione approaching the stile. Those two were good kids -- good for Harry, too -- and he liked them, if mainly because they treated him with respect. Because they had believed he wasn't lying. Because they weren't afraid of him still, unconsciously believing he was a murderer even as their logic proved them wrong. Sirius had almost forgotten what it was like to be an accepted member of society; it was one of those things everybody took for granted, like the fact that the sun rose in the east every morning or that the police would always be there to protect you, not to drag you off to a cold cell for twelve years and tell you to rot there.   
"Hello, Sirius," said Harry's voice behind his head. Sirius dropped back to earth and wagged his tail, sniffing the delicious aromas of real, honest-to-God food. His godson was a wonderful person -- chicken! It was chicken! Sirius sniffed again for the sheer joy of it, even though the smell made his stomach feel even more empty. The black dog trotted back to his cave quickly: the sooner Sirius got there, the sooner he could dig into that chicken.   
Sirius's brain began to clear as he dove into the chicken, and he could almost feel the relief of his digestive system. No more rats -- at least for a time.   
Only he was so caught up in figuring out the mysteries of the Quidditch World Cup that he didn't notice Ron's eagerness for his approval, didn't see that he ended up snubbing him every time the boy came up with something. And then they had to delve into Crouch .. and Sirius had to work very, very hard to control his rage, and then his puzzlement. What was Crouch _doing_ during the World Cup? What was Crouch _doing_ when he should have been judging the Triwizard Tournament??   
Finally talking got the better of Sirius, and he transformed to see them off at the stile. Doing a brisk jog around the village, Sirius managed to grab another Daily Prophet, walk up the mountainside with it, and get back into his cave.   
Except somebody was already in it.   
"Transform, and then put your hands up!" a dark-haired woman ordered. She already had her wand out and was pointing it at him. Sirius guessed her age -- somewhere around thirty-five, but not a stranger to the troubles of the world. "Get inside the cave. Just because Harry Potter believes in you doesn't mean I'm going to automatically forgive you for the deaths of sixteen people. I'm a better Auror than that."   
_Damn,_ Sirius told himself as the panic rose in his chest. _How the hell did I manage to stumble into an Auror?_ And how did she know he was an Animagus? Had she been listening to him with Harry, Ron, and Hermione _all this time?_   
"I know you're Sirius Black. So get out of your dog disguise," she told him after a pause. What could he do as a dog, anyway? Attack her and rip her apart? What would he do, eat her corpse? Sirius transformed, put up his hands, and matched her cold hazel gaze with his own harsh eyes.   
"Tell me what you are doing here," she said in a low voice, and stepped back. She wasn't trembling, but she was looking at Sirius like one would look at a time bomb with three seconds left before the blow.   
"And why do I owe you an explanation?" Sirius replied, just as softly, his confidence returning somewhat. He couldn't kill her, but he might be able to keep her here, Auror that she was. The one thing he could not do was return to Azkaban.   
"You owe me an explanation, Mr. Black," she answered testily, "because you are a convicted murderer and I am an Auror who at this moment has a wand pointing straight at you. Talk."   
Sirius closed his eyes briefly. What were his options? He could just lock her up, but with what? He could take her wand and threaten her, make her promise to keep her mouth shut ..   
Or he could tell her the truth. "I believe you have been misinformed," he began quietly. "I was not responsible for sixteen deaths -- just two." Lily and James. My best friends. "One of them never happened, and the other thirteen were all Pettigrew's."   
Her eyes widened, and she sat down, sensing that this was going to take awhile. She moved back from him again, keeping her wand on him. Like a good Auror. Like an Auror who had just found out that Crouch had sent him to Azkaban without a trial, and was willing to hear his explanation despite her fears. Right then Sirius knew he would never get that wand from her. She had been trained, and she knew what she was about. He was betting that there were no reinforcements on the way -- she wanted to hear his side of it before she threw him to the lions. And that small bit of respect, that minuscule consideration for another person's life, that realization of the repercussions of her actions, reached inside Sirius and strengthened him and made him think that he did, in fact, owe her the truth.   
She listened when he told her what he had done, how he had switched Secret-Keepers at the last moment, how it had all come out in the top room of the Shrieking Shack, how he had believed that Harry might come and live with him, how he had narrowly escaped getting the Dementor's Kiss because of his godson, how his godson helped him again and gave him a hippogriff to escape with, how he had flown to Barcelona and made his hideout there until this year, when he began to notice the signs, and Dumbledore had owled him about the cave at the edge of Hogsmeade. And he had remembered discovering it in his fourth year at Hogwarts.   
The Auror gulped and lowered her wand shakily. It was the first time she had ever acted truly unsteady. They sat there in silence for a long moment, the Auror absorbing his story and Sirius accepting that there was nothing much to be said.   
"But --" she croaked after awhile, and gripped her wand a little tighter, "you said you were responsible for two deaths."   
"I switched Secret-Keepers," he reminded her, daring her to question him again.   
She looked into his eyes. "But that doesn't make you their murderer."   
Sirius was searching his mind for a reply when a rat scurried across the cave. He watched it go with a slight smile on his face, reveling in the knowledge that he didn't need it for food. The chicken was still in his stomach. He glanced over at the Auror. To his surprise, she looked as though she was fighting back a scream, grabbing her wand until the knuckles were white, all her muscles tense. Sirius gave a start. Here he was, despised criminal, who had been through the horrors of Azkaban, and there she was, a trained Auror from the Ministry of Magic, cringing from a rat. The terror in her eyes was so real, though, that he couldn't laugh. She shook violently even after the rat had made its way across the cave and vanished into a crack in the rock.   
"It's just a rat," he said lamely, attempts at comfort lost on him. She glared at him and he was suddenly reminded that she could put him in Azkaban. He shut his mouth and waited for her to calm down.   
Her breath came in slow gasps, but finally she gained control of her voice and trusted herself to whisper, "I'm sorry." She was looking at the ground, and not at him, obviously thinking of all the rats that could be making their way across this floor, that were waiting behind folds in the solid rock to jump out and dig their claws into her skin. She took a deep breath and looked him over again. She seemed to be thinking hard. Sirius sat back and pulled the Daily Prophet nonchalantly off the floor where he had dropped it after his transformation.   
Before he could read a word, the witch was standing over him again. She gently took the Daily Prophet out of his hands and held out her wand.   
"Take it," she ordered. He did. "There. Now you're armed and I'm not. Want to kill me, Sirius Black, or did I judge you right after all?" _And just when I thought this job was getting boring .._ she told herself with dry humor.   
The Auror stood there, watching him, and Sirius carefully avoided her gaze, still sitting on the ground. It brought back memories, to have the feel of a wand in his hand .. he looked at it. It was about a foot long, made with ebony: a good, impresive-looking wand for an Auror to have. With a slight jump he realized he didn't even know her name. He looked up at her, opening his mouth, about to ask her, and then their eyes locked again and he found he couldn't say anything. She was afraid, he saw, afraid that he would blast her into a million pieces, afraid that she had been wrong about him and therefore wrong in all her preconceptions about human nature. She was afraid that he would see the easy way out of his problems and cast a Memory Charm on her, erasing her life in one word.   
_Well, why don't you?_ a treacherous part of his mind whispered. One shout of "Obliviate!" and all his problems would be over. The Ministry would think she'd run into some minor bit of trouble and by the time they got around to investigation, Sirius would be gone, in hiding somewhere else. While the wizarding government had its uses, it was painfully slow about this sort of thing. Bertha Jorkins, for example, and that was possibly a more serious case. At least if he cast a simple Memory Charm, she'd still be alive.   
But Sirius couldn't bring himself to do it .. he was afraid, too. The fright in her eyes brought him back to that cold night last year, where he had been an inch away from the hissing, sucking breaths of the dark, cloaked Dementor's, awaiting his Kiss. Sirius couldn't raise the wand. He couldn't kill somebody so completely. He lowered the wand, and held it out to her, looking away from the hazel depths again.   
"Take it," he growled. "Take it."   
She took the wand in amazement, and glanced at him uneasily, recognizing who he really was, seeing him for the first time. Sirius didn't look at her during this examination; he couldn't stand pity. You've already done it to me, now go away.   
The Auror pocketed her wand and held out a hand. "I'm Aurelia Sands," she told him softly. Sirius raised his head and realized that there was no pity in her eyes -- only respect, only sorrow that twelve years of his life had been thrown away. He stood up and shook her hand. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning either.   
"Nice to meet you," he replied, standard protocols returning to him slowly after a long rest in the back of his mind.   
"I'm not going to turn you in," she said suddenly, still looking into his eyes. Why did she have to _do_ that? It made him uncomfortable. Like she could see what lay beyond them. As if she was checking to make sure he understood her promise.   
He shrugged.   
"I mean it, Sirius. I'm not going to turn you in." He shrugged again. He knew that she wouldn't. He knew she believed him. He knew she didn't have the heart to send him to Azkaban, now.   
"Do -- do you need anything?" she asked. "I mean -- I can get you the Daily Prophets -- food --"   
"And be discovered, coming up here every day?" he returned, eyebrows raised. "No. My godson might be able to get me something. And if not -- I don't really mind living off rats. I mean, it's either that or --"   
"You _live_ off _rats?"_ she repeated, shuddering and backing away from him again. Almost as if she saw the surprise in his eyes at her actions -- she seemed so in control one second, and then at the mere mention of the creatures she went berserk -- she added defensively, "Everybody's afraid of something. My curse just happens to be rats."   
"Not useful information for an enemy," he remarked dryly, thinking of Wormtail.   
She looked up. "You're not an enemy."   
Sirius rubbed his face and Aurelia finally noticed that he was tired; she cupped her hands around her elbows in a half-nervous gesture and said, "I was off-duty, but I better get on Pettigrew's tail tomorrow." She gave a short laugh, remembering that he was a rat. "This should be a challenge. I'll be back tomorrow to ask you questions. And _I'll be careful,"_ she added, a bite of impatience in her voice.   
Mentally rolling his eyes at the whole Auror obsession with questioning, Sirius watched her slip out of the cave and listened for her crunching footsteps down the mountainside, but there weren't any. He shook his head, too tired to deal with any more disbelief at this moment. Why did she unsettle him so much? Why did he keep forcing himself to avoid her hazel eyes?   
  


Sirius awoke at midnight with a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was the chicken, he'd eaten too much, after days of feasting on uncooked rat whenever the hunger pangs got too strong. His body had gotten used to the meager rations, the raw meat, so when he gorged on that chicken of _course_ it might make him sick ..   
These thoughts ran through his mind in a split second. And then he threw up. He hated it. He'd done it plenty of times in Azkaban, of course, sometimes after hearing the atrocities that some of the Death Eaters had committed -- and enjoyed -- and sometimes just because of the maggots and fleas that made their home in his lumpy gray soup bowl. At least this time he had something to throw up, instead of dry heaves which he'd had more often than not in prison. Still, it was an unpleasant feeling. His mouth was burning with the tang of the acid from his stomach; cool, cleansing water was what he needed right now. He changed into his black dog form and trotted down to the river, letting the crisp night air calm him. For once he was thankful to be living in a small village; there were no cutthroat gangs or drunk bums about, and the stars were beautiful.   
He gulped the water hastily, letting it wash the burn out of his mouth, and the black dog rolled in the grass for a bit, enjoying the night for all it was worth. He needed to think, anyway.   
Sirius very strongly doubted that Aurelia would turn him in. Yes, it was _possible_ that she could just be a very good actress, but he didn't think that was the case. Something about her told him that she could be trusted. Besides, he'd taken all the necessary precautions, Harry would only worry more if he changed hiding places, and Aurelia did believe him. He assumed that she'd been listening the entire time he was talking with Harry, Ron, and Hermione .. but how? Suddenly recalling how she had made no noise going down the mountain, Sirius knew there was something she hadn't told him. Many things she had not told him.   
She wouldn't be the only one doing the questioning tomorrow.   
  


   [1]: http://pub42.ezboard.com/bfantalktheforum



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